Page 2 of Love In Print

“Fucking idiot,” she mumbled to herself. Maisie took some calming breaths and then stood tall. She would fix this blunder and apologize for acting like a fool. She went to the next aisle, ready to confront the man with an apology. Maisie walked toward him, knowing she had nothing to lose except her dignity. She stopped near his cart and watched as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen, turned and walked away.

Maisie stood there, stunned.

Was she really that bad at flirting that he would bolt from the store to avoid her?

Clearly, she was.

Resigned, Maisie went back to the aisle where it all started and retrieved her items. Now, more than ever, she wanted to lose herself in the sweets. She had one shot to make a first impression and couldn’t even do that right.

As of late, Maisie was down on her luck when it came to romance. It seemed that every first date she went on ended up being with the wrong guy. She believed her soulmate was out there, she just had to kiss a million frogs until she found him.

Maisie made her way to the front, where only one cashier worked. She stood in line and watched the train come and go. It didn’t matter how many times she huffed; the cashier wouldn’t move any faster. This was part of small-town life, where everyone knew each other, even when they didn’t.

She finally paid for her items and as soon as she stepped outside, she saw it had started raining. Not just a drizzle, but a downpour. Maisie remembered she had parked at the end of the parking lot to increase her steps for the day. She contemplated waiting, but really wanted to get home.

As soon as Maisie walked out from under the shelter and onto the pavement, a truck drove by, hit the puddle, and splashed rainwater and mud all over her clothes. It was the final straw of what ended up being a nightmare of a day. If she had gone straight home after work, none of the last thirty to forty-five minutes would’ve happened. She could’ve lived the rest of her life never seeing that man from earlier. Now, he was present in her mind and short of quitting her nursing job and getting one at the grocery store, the chances of seeing him again were practically non-existent.

Soaked and dirty, Maisie made her way to her car, only to realize she forgot the soda. If she went home without it, Dorian would be upset. It was her time of the month, and the sisterhood required an all-hands-on-deck approach in moments like this. Maisie stored the groceries in the trunk of her car and made her way back into the store to pick up the pack of soda. Of course, it was just her luck, or lack thereof as the stop at the store proved, the line was long and there was still just one cashier.

“You’re back,” the clerk said as she scanned the twelve pack.

“Hadn’t even left the parking lot,” Maisie mused. “But I’m going home now, come hell or high water.”

The clerk looked outside and scoffed. “Looks like we’re flooding.”

Maisie followed her gaze and swore under her breath. Sure enough there was standing water in the parking lot, which meant Maisie needed to really pay attention to her driving skills. She sighed, paid for the soda, and walked back to her car. She didn’t care when she stepped into a puddle because why should she? At this point, her day couldn’t get any worse.

Or could it?

Nope, Maisie was determined to make the best of her night and her day off tomorrow. There was no point in dwelling on the crap she couldn’t prevent, like the truck hitting the puddle or the fact that she blew the chance of a lifetime with the most perfect man she had ever laid eyes on.

two

When Rhys Wainwrightwas a little boy, he used to spin in circles while sitting in his dad’s leather office chair, annoying his father’s stuffy secretary. She would scold Rhys by shaking her finger at him and when he refused to heed her words, she would turn an ugly shade of purple. Which, when you’re a spoiled youngster always looking for trouble, the sight always made you laugh.

As an adult, Rhys loved nothing more than spinning in his chair. Only now, no one told him he was a petulant child in need of discipline. He watched the people rush by his office window, hunched and huddled together for warmth. The winter wind was a bitch. Unfavored by most, only partially tolerated by the locals.

Tourists flocked to his town. It didn’t matter the time of year, everyone wanted to visit Coddington and for some odd reason, his clothing and accessory line had generated a massive following on social media resulting in his one and only store being busy from the moment his employees unlocked the door, right up until they turned the lights out after closing. Rhys never thought, in a million years, his penchant for photography, yellow Labradors, and John F. Kennedy would turn him into an overnight sensation with anyone looking to feel and dress nostalgically preppy.

Rhys groaned when a tour bus pulled up along the curb. “Sorry, Fenway, you’ll have to wait until these people scatter,” he said to his dog. Fenway laid, sprawled out, on the floor, with her tennis ball near her snout.

He turned back to his desk, pressed a button on his phone and waited for one of his salesclerks to pick up.

“Hi, Mr. Wainwright.”

It didn’t matter how many times he asked his employees to refer to him as Rhys, they always reverted to mister.

“A tour bus just pulled up. I wanted to give you fair warning in case anything needed to be stocked. Please let me know if you need any help.”

“Will do. Thank you for letting us know.”

Wainwright sat on the corner of the busiest street in Coddington and was by far the most decorated for whatever holiday season they were in. Right now, the interior of the store screamed love, in preparation for Valentine’s Day. Rhys was thankful he wasn’t left to decorate and that his very capable staff had a penchant for creating an inviting atmosphere. Every day they had fresh cookies or cupcakes for their customers. They always had candy out, and depending on the time of year, cider, coffee, and always water. It didn’t matter if you bought anything, if you needed a snack while shopping, you could help yourself.

Rhys hung up, then turned back to the window and watched as person after person exited the bus. They shivered and quickly zipped their coats up and dug through their bags for their stocking caps. He glanced across the street at the bank. They had a small reader board that showed the time, and then switched to the temperature. It was a little over forty, but that didn’t account for the wind chill. Most people arrived unprepared, which benefited his business greatly. It was the first one they’d see, and subsequently flock to, to get out of the cold. Rhys had every confidence in the world that once they stepped foot into his store, they’d buy something, and their purchase turned into free marketing. The store had unique bags with rope handles and a prominent logo.

It was a rare moment when someone would refuse a bag, not that his staff ever offered. Each purchase would be wrapped nicely in tissue paper or a box—if jewelry—and set into the correctly sized bag. They also included a few free gifts with every purchase. It didn’t matter how much the patron spent. However, if they spent over a hundred and fifty, they’d get a free puzzle or whatever swag his marketing team had come up with that month. Regardless, the picture on the freebie was a photo he had taken. Everything was authentic as possible.

There was a knock on his office door. He told whoever it was to come in and spun in his chair to face his assistant. “Rhys, I was wondering if you could give me a ride home?” Phillipa had worked for him since he started and was his right-hand person. If he wasn’t there, she was in charge.

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